You won’t look like Sharon Stone at 59.
Don’t take it from me, not when The New York Times says literally that. Of course, the teaser for the digital article starts with “But you can try,” which is sort of an odd way to put it — here is an unattainable goal, but hey, click on the link and learn how you can shoot your shot.
But I’m not going to look like Sharon Stone, ever, and not just on account of being a guy. Although my wife is a fan of when I wear a shirt and jacket with no tie (which, to be honest, I do so I don’t have to button the top button around my neck), I’m never going to look like George Clooney, either.
Because they’re Sharon Stone and George Clooney. A whole lot of explanation isn’t really required. (After seeing 93-year-old Eva Marie Saint at the Oscars, my wife wants to know what her secrets are.)
However, for the guys, I have a perfectly reachable goal, provided your standards are low enough.
Me, a regular, average 45-year-old dude.
So without further ado, here are my “secrets.”
Skin care — I shower every day, with soap. I shave ever day, unless I know I’m not going anywhere that day and I’m feeling lazy. I use Barbasol and disposable razors that I don’t dispose of until I realize I’m not so much “shaving” as “ripping the hairs out of my face.”
Makeup — I can’t help you with that. I’m more familiar with “make up,” as in what you try to do with your spouse or significant other when you say or do something stupid (very familiar with this one) or with your supervisor when you’ve tossed a nutter in his or her direction the day before. I, of course, know nothing about that one.
Fragrance — Does deodorant count?
Hair — Among the things I worry about, going bald will never be one of them. The men in my mother’s family have strong, full heads of hair, and her uncle has the pompadour of the gods.
The problem is that my hair grows gradually and then suddenly, so before I know it, I’m looking like Rod Blagojevich.
Pro tip: Don’t let your hair look like Rod Blagojevich.
I’ve had the same hairstyle since I was a teenager, so my hair knows what to do now. I just go to the closest salon (currently the Fantastic Sam’s down the hill from my house) and give the same request every time: short in the back, just long enough on the top and sides so I can comb it back, part on the left, use blade No. 4 if you’re starting with the clippers on the sides and back, even with the ear and no sideburn.
The whole thing takes 15 minutes, maybe 20 if the stylist is feeling chatty.
Other services — My clothes generally match? I have baseball hats that pretty much go with any outfit? My glasses aren’t too dorky?
Diet and fitness — Although “diet” is a four-letter word, I am trying to drop some pounds. My main problems are that if it’s good for you, I probably don’t like it, and if it’s not, I probably do, and what I like to eat, I really like to eat.
So I’m trying to eat less, and cut out the really bad things. So long, chicken tenders and French fries. I’ll miss you, Tuesday morning office doughnuts.
Three days a week, I ride a bike for 30 minutes, and then work on weight machines for another 30. I take an hour-long exercise class once a week, and no, it’s not weird at all that no matter how big the class gets, I’m always the only guy.
Once a week, I play pickleball for two hours. When I was in high school, we played as part of a unit on “lifetime sports” even though none of us had ever heard of it and we all forgot about it when it was done.
Now, going on 28 years since I graduated, I actually get cranky when I can’t play.
So there you go. Have at it.